


Dark pictures.

by shaardom



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Dream Pack, Explicit Language, Homophobia, I'm too lazy to tag them all - Freeform, M/M, Violence, but not enough to be triggering ?, idk really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-10-01 16:12:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10193696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaardom/pseuds/shaardom
Summary: He gave up on meditating and clenched his fists."What if you stood where I was ?""Then you'd be driving," Adam replied.---Reality makes sure it's always remembered, sometimes in the most harmful ways. Then, you know, you just deal with it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A long time ago, I read a post on how fictional characters never seem to deal with "real" issues, especially in fanwork, so, I felt like writing it. (':
> 
> PS : are my personal opinions kinda showing up here ? hell yes.

The trees didn't grow any leaves yet, allowing the grey sky to stretch above Adam and Ronan's heads. Despite the lack of natural hiding places, the parc felt intimate enough for them to behave with more intimacy than they used to in a public place.

It started with Adam making a comment on the weather and by Ronan pointing out how meaningless it was. Adam rested his head on Ronan's shoulder and remained quiet, waiting for a deeper topic to cross his mind. Ronan noticed his struggle, though, and asked about college. Since he genuinely cared, Adam answered.

At some point, they went for a walk. None of them is able to tell how much time did it last. But it ended with a long, meaningful kiss. Adam's hands were crossed behind Ronan's neck, and Ronan had crossed them behind his back. See, it was perfect.

It doesn't take much to fall from quietness to chaos. Here, it required a whistle, and the sound of a breaking twig.

Ronan suddenly stiffened in Adam's arms, hissing in pain while they weren't apart yet. The seconds stretched like the vowels Adam usually spoke. Ronan became over-sensitive to the outside world. Adam's eyes widening with concern, their bodies still pressed against each other, the pain in his shoulder and the cold fluid quickly descending in his tank top, sending shivers through his whole body.

"What the..."

Adam didn't finish his sentence. Another whistle. Another broken twig. The second egg landed between Ronan's shoulders. Ronan quickly looked behind him, still shielding Adam. The culprit was long gone.

"Are you alright ?"

Adam's voice forced himself to join a proper timeline. He slipped back into a world which still spun at full speed.

"Are you ?"

Adam pulled his hands in front of him. Some of the egg white had caught the tip of his fingers. He focused on Ronan again, questioning the reality of what just happened. Ronan touched what felt like the most painful spot — the spot where his bare skin was hit. His fingers came back covered with that sticky goo, in which a few red strings were frozen.

"Let's go," Adam said in a toneless voice.

Ronan kept contemplating the blood, oblivious of the greater injury on his back. Adam pulled him towards the gates. He followed the motion he was given, allowing a brief burst of hilarity out of his chest.

"Please tell me you're not crying or—" Adam anxiously started.

"I got a whole tattoo, Parrish."

"Well, not everyone is as though as you."

There, he did it. He regrets the words the moment they leave his mouth, aware that Ronan is suffering twice as much now. He squeezed his hand as an apology. Ronan sighed, but didn't let go.

"Look, we agree to say that I know what trouble is about."

Adam nodded, not quite getting where he was going with that.

"And you're quite the troublemaker as well," Ronan continued. Adam wanted to protest but thought of Cabeswater and showed proof of his agreement once more. "Then how come holding hands feels like the most daring shit we've ever done ?"

Adam had to admit it, the thought is hilarious.

"If you weren't injured, I'd stop right here to make out with you."

Ronan snorted.

"We'd get jailed."

"From what I've heard, we'd also be in trouble for doing it inside so..."

"Whatever, rebel." Ronan tossed the car's key at him. "If you're not too shaken, please drive us to the Barns while I try to see what I can do about that."

He pointed at his shoulder. Adam locked the car once they were inside, waiting for Ronan to be ready before to turn the engine on. He couldn't help but anxiously scan the area.

"Found anything ?"

"No."

He squirmed on the driver's seat to take his shirt off and handed it to Ronan. Ronan wiped most of the fluids and left it hanging on his shoulder not to taint his own seat. He closed his eyes, trying to let the pain ebb. The agression kept replaying behind his eyelids. He gave up on meditating and clenched his fists.

"What if you stood where I was ?"

"Then you'd be driving," Adam replied.

Which isn't entirely false, by the way.

"If you had been hurt," Ronan slowly said, "I would have hunted this fucker down, bent his bones until there was nothing straight left in his body then have him blow Satan on my behalf."

"Guess they were lucky," Adam chuckled.

"You bet."

"Hey, we could go to the police."

Ronan shot him a doubtful glance.

"Sure. We'd be lucky to leave without an appointment to the nearest therapist."

"You're darkening the picture."

Adam didn't want to admit it, but the picture is pretty dark already. Until now, they were oblivious of the hate spreading across the country. Henrietta is such a quiet place that it made them forget about how their relationship could be seen.

"Am I ?"

"No therapy in the world will change my feelings."

"I know, I just want you to be safe."

Ronan sound defeated. Adam hated it, as well as what this sentence implied.

"We can travel if it gets too complicated here," he suggested with a softer voice.

The problem being coming back, mostly. Ronan liked the idea. Focusing on this peaceful thought made him momentarily forget the pain.

"What about college ?"

"I'll take online classes. You'll show me Ireland."

"I've never been there," he countered.

"Better late than sorry."

Ronan's lips twitched into a smile.

" 'Course."

Maybe that they'll meet Blue, Gansey and Henry out there, on another mythical quest. Adam parked the car and Ronan hurried inside. He followed, wondering if the door was ever locked.

Ronan was attempting to clean the wound when Adam joined him, casually wearing one of his shirts. He didn't pick up on the fact.

"Neep help ?"

"Yeah."

Adam cleaned, sanitized and bandaged the area. An ugly bruise started to appear between his shoulders but that can't be helped. Adam had to believe him as he said that the pain is bearable. Giving him painkillers would be too much, then.

They end up on the living room's couch, with pillows and a blanket, talking about foreign countries and whatnot. Adam knew he didn't take many practical aspects in count — he didn't have the money to leave, even if he wanted to. But it soothed the pain and made them feel better.

" _You're not serious about that, are you ?_ " Ronan suddenly asked.

He stopped looking at his computer screen, immediately stumbling upon the abyssal sadness in Ronan's eyes. His heart missed a beat, or two, and his stomach did some weird knots.

"What makes you think so ?"

Ronan remained quiet, unable to get rid of his childish pain. The distress of someone who woke from a pleasant dream which will remain one. Adam got it, he has a long story with not leaving the painful places. But that was ages ago, when he thought he had to fight the world on his own.

Ronan was unable to reply. Adam closed the lid of his computer and pulled him closer. He swore again that he wasn't joking while Ronan nodded, tears rolling on his cheeks despite his closed eyes.

" _Okay,_ " he said. "I know what makes you think so. But I'm totally serious about it."

Ronan shuddered, his voice still trembling as he either apologized — what for ? — or thanked him. He angrily wiped his cheeks and Adam carefully poked his damp skin with a tissue. He mentally swore to drag Ronan to the police station even if they were very unlikely to find the culprit. But it has to be done, otherwise, the picture will only keep darkening.

Ronan nudged Adam's shoulder before pulling the blanket up to his nose. Adam dropped a kiss on his forehead before to return to browsing Celtic myths and legends, even though there is one sitting just by his side.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kavinsky faces his own homophobia. Doesn't mean that he deals with it...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm totally for Skov reading old-school novels. Enjoy !

"Karma is a bitch, huh ?"

Kavinsky saw Jiang sitting on the roof of his Mitsubishi before everything else. That should have hinted how bad things were but he was too high to pick up on any clue, even the most obvious ones. He walked closer, ready to take her down, and the patterns finally caught his sight. What he thought to be zebra marks were in fact letters. Clumsily intertwined, revealing the cold silver-ish color under the dark paint. He momentarily forgot Jiang's disrespectful position to trace the angry carvings in the door of his Mitsubishi. _Fag_ , they spelled. _Thief. Murderer._

_Cunt._

There's nothing artistic in the lettering. The angles are sharp. The lining is rough, each letter traced multiple times to make sure the message will get to him.

"Who did this ?"

He's too mad to swear. Jiang stopped swinging her legs and jumped from the to the ground. He didn't hear her land. She stepped back to admire the work. The car is covered with these words. Each one is readable as they do not overlap. 

"I'd have given them a hand if I knew."

She laughed, delighted by Kavinsky's distress.

"What the fuck," he muttered.

Fag. This one appears over and over, as though his sexuality was the only point of this act of destruction. Maybe it is ? Another hint he won't take. He finally looked up at Jiang, unnerved by her hilarity. She never giggled like this. Maybe he's dreaming. It had been a while since he lost control like this. Whether it's a dream.

"What's wrong with you ?"

"You deserved it," she fired back. "For all you've done. God, I wish Proko and Lynch were here to see this."

"Fuck off, Jiang."

She mockingly bowed at him. He clenched his fist around his car's keys, wishing he was enough in a right mind to throw them at her face without missing.

"I'll try to find who did this. To congratulate them, obviously."

She turned on her heel and walked away without looking back. Kavinsky kicked a wheel. Someone trespassed in his property. Spent the night destroying the work of many dreams, only to shove Kavinsky's hypocritical behavior in his own face. And they managed. He knew that Proko won't react to it in a triumphant way because he wasn't dreamt that way. But the others were probably laughing at his misfortune already.

That's what you get for hanging with stray dogs. Can't expect much more from them.

He's fascinated by the hate the words convey. It must be someone who knows him. Or at least an acquaintance of someone who does. It doesn't make much sense otherwise.

He keeps reading to keep himself from thinking of what he has to do now. He doesn't want to be seen around this thing. If he doesn't bring it to repair, he'll have to dream another one. Dreaming small things is fine, even in big quantities. But to dream a whole car— Ronan will notice that. Or one of his compulsive questers of friends will. They'll get in his way because that's what they do.

He won't have anyone to complain to because it's nowhere close to the persona he built for the world. He has to get over it, fast.

He doesn't know how to feel about the names themselves. He spends his time calling people names. He doesn't question his behavior because that's how he is— that's how he wants to be.

Once he has circled the car thrice, he lets himself fall on the ground and crosses his legs, still unsure about what to do.

_They've got a shitty handwriting._

The most disturbing part is that he genuinely doesn't know who could have done this. He knows many people who would hate him— but literally none of them would have channeled their negative feelings like this.

Each member of his pack wouldn't think twice about punching him. Lynch made a point in ignoring him and it's very unlikely that he'll come back at him in this twisted way. Aside from these people, no one knows him enough to be this specific.

 _Murderer._ This one's for Proko.

What bothers him the most is the amount of work he put in this. Gone, just like that. Dreaming the perfect car is exhausting. It requires multiple tries. It's fragile.

"Gonna weep all day long ?"

He stood up. Swan slung an arm around his shoulders.

"I'll find them."

"And then ?"

"I'll burn the car down. They'll be inside."

"Will be quite a show," Swan shrugged. "C'mon, Jiang managed to lure Cheng in."

"What is she doing with him ?" Kavinsky winced. "I don't need that kind of people around."

"What kind, yours ?"

"His."

" _Spoilsport._ " He stuck his tongue at Kavinsky. "He's fun to be around. Naive, thinks he has a chance with her."

"I couldn't care less," Kavinsky retorted, disentangling himself from Swan's arm. "Leave me alone."

"It's just a car." He stepped back. "You know where to find us, when you'll feel better."

Swan respected his wish of loneliness, knowing that his friend will regret his presence. But that can't be helped. He doesn't care who did this because if they were smart enough to perform their little trick, they're smart enough not to keep hanging around.

Kavinsky eventually came to that conclusion. It still moved him. He wondered what Prokopenko would have said if he had seen it. For once, he avoided being around his dream. He was afraid of sleeping, afraid of what he'll find when waking up.

He probably deserved it, but if there is any sense of justice here, he didn't feel it, unlike someone who knows what they are being punished for. Not that it felt wrong either. It was just— out of the place.

 

"You've spent so much time being an issue that you've forgotten how to deal with them."

He raised a brow at Skov's unhelpful conclusion. Swan and Jiang were somewhere else toying with Cheng. The living room was nearly empty, then.

"So ?"

"That's all I can say," Skov laughed, laying himself across the couch. "Maybe it's like in this Agatha Christie novel."

Kavinsky couldn't raise his brow any higher but the intent remained. Out of all people, he could never tell the difference when Skov was drunk or sober.

"Mind to explain ?"

"Maybe that there's more than a culprit. Maybe that there are as many as words carved on your car. Maybe that you participated in the crime."

The eerie atmosphere created by Skov's hypothesis made Kavinsky uneasy. It woke up childish fears of _monsters_ under the bed, something about wolves and the beasts within ourselves.

Something he had successfully managed to shut out of his mind.

"I've mastered dreaming," he snorted. "Lynch still has accidents, not me."

"These were suggestions," Skov noticed. "You should read more about solving cases."

"I've had enough," Kavinsky snapped. "It doesn't even matter."

Everything they would say or do about it will annoy him. The sooner he burns everything to the ground, the better he will be.

"Let's be real," Skov said. "You're fucking terrified."

"I'm not."

"You are, because if someone didn't trespass then one of us did it. And I'll say it one last time— maybe you wrote something, too."

Kavinsky didn't reply. Truth is, he doesn't exactly keep track of what he does on a daily basis. But tagging his own car sounds very unlikely, especially given the amount of time and energy it requires.

Yet Skov's hypothesis sounds awfully plausible.


End file.
